


Domesticated Jealousy

by littlesolnyshka, solnyshka (littlesolnyshka)



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesolnyshka/pseuds/littlesolnyshka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesolnyshka/pseuds/solnyshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompt: Jealousy that leads to smut.</p>
<p>PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticated Jealousy

The first thing she hears coming in their front door is "Really?"

"Fuckin' really?", he repeats, his New York accent slurs his vowels and he's flushed pink high on his cheeks, shoulders squared, and he's furious. Her laidback, lackadaisical Sebastian is fuming, he never shouts but he sulks, gets catty, makes life miserable for himself and works himself up until he's pacing the hallway all night, and she usually knows better than to provoke him- but what else has she got to do tonight? Her schedule is clear and she's been spoiling for a fight ever since he sent her the SMS to let her know he saw the photo on instagram of her. His girl, his, wrapped up in a scarf with another guy in a group shot of their friends.

Sebastian, she thinks, has a bit of a jealousy problem. 

"What's the matter?" She murrs, feigning ignorance, slips her cardigan off and drops the offending scarf and her handbag on the hallway table as she walks past him. Saunters past him. Kicks her shoes off next to their couch like he hates and turns to face him. He gestures at her, hands out, palms up, the universal sign for "what the fuck?", and she quirks an eyebrow at him. He makes a noise in his throat like an angry cat, crosses the room in a few steps, crowds against her, and she can smell his cologne and shampoo and laundry powder and cigarette smoke. Before she can do anything he grabs her wrist, pulls her against him, spins them both and walks her backwards until she's leaning against the kitchen bench, buries his face in the crook of her neck, smells her perfume in the soft strands of her hair and her warm skin. His other hand is around her right wrist, too, holding her still as she trembles, bites her hard enough on the side of her neck to feel tendons and muscle twitches and the steady thrum of her heartbeat in her throat. That will bruise, she thinks idly, he's marking his territory, he's jealous. He's rock hard against her thigh, sweatpants low on his hips and he's shoving her shirt up so he can palm her breasts through her thin bra, scrapes his nail over her nipple until it hardens, until he has her full attention. And he's jealous. 

"You're mine, that's what, " he mumbles almost on cue, and bites her again, rolls her earlobe between his teeth, holds her wrists tightly as he ruts his hips and his stomach against hers, "I don't want to share you, I want you all to myself."

She laughs then sighs, more sunshine drunk than liquor drunk after her day, frees her hands from his grip and curls her arms up around his neck, gets a handful of his soft hair in her fingers and pulls his head back so his mouth isn't biting her anymore and his face isn't buried in her hair and his throat is exposed, pink mouth half open, blue eyes with blown out pupils watching her from under his dark lashes, three days of stubble on his jawline. It's worth the scratchiness of that stubble against her cheek to feel his hands shake when she presses herself up to meet him, feels his cock twitch under his pants seam and his abdominal muscles clench, and when he figures out how to work his hands again the first thing he does is pull her away from the bench and drags her towards their bedroom. 

"We haven't fucked in our bed in days," he mutters against her mouth, like she posed for a photo with a friend to make his heart explode with jealousy on purpose, and lazily making love on the couch for hours as they intermittently watch crappy reality tv or frantically fucking in her car on a side street after dinner is the reason she did it. She laughs again and kisses him, properly, tastes his jealousy, lets him undress them both in between the heated kissing, sighs happily again when he curls his long fingers around each of her wrists and holds her down to the mattress and his warm torso covers hers. 

He starts to get more desperate once he's inside of her, can't hold her wrists down because he wants the feel of her hands on him, sliding in his hair and scratching his shoulders, but before he can do anything more she's flipped them, slides back down around him and she rides him, fucks down onto him for half an hour or more until she sees the tiny beads of sweat on his hairline and watches him savage his bottom lip and feels his hands start to shake when he runs his thumbs over her nipples and down her sides. She waits until he's starting to beg for it with just his breathing, his cheekbones still flushed pink but now for a different reason, slows it right down until his fingers edge down to stroke at her, where he selfishly hopes that if she moves with her own pleasure she will move enough to make him finish too, but she edges it for him, keeps him balanced, wants his pupils to stay like that and wants his mouth to stay bitten and red. He's amenable when he's like this. He'll do anything, for her, to her, with her, he just wants more. And today, he's jealous. 

"Unghh, come on," he spits out, and she's edging it out for him again because she can feel his shoulder muscles tense and when she grinds down on him to the hilt this time he bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, leaves pink on his teeth and a coppery taste on her mouth, "just let me- let me cum, fuck, you should cum around me, lasă mă să-l simt, please, please," as though so far any amount of begging has given him anything. 

"You said I was yours," she says, breathless, thighs gripping his hips, pausing her movements as he strokes her hair back from her face and pets her throat with his thumbs, presses down above her collarbones and makes her breathing harder, moans into her mouth when he reaches down between them and realizes his thighs are wet from the heat of her, slick and warm and he just wants to fucking taste her, throw her thighs over his shoulders and bury his tongue inside her until she melts. "You are mine," Sebastian agrees, "but that doesn't mean I shouldn't make a mess of you." 

"You wanna make a mess of me?" She feels his cock throb, slides off him to the top of the bed where she lay back against the plushness of the pillows, and it's only a split second later and he's got her thighs open and his mouth is on her, drinking her in and licking and tasting and sucking until she's got her hand clutched in his hair until his scalp aches and he's grinding his mouth down onto her, finesse long gone. When she comes, Sebastian holds her hips still with his hands, fingers half-slick, waits for the aftershocks to subside before he leans up and kisses her, lets her taste herself on his tongue as she wraps her long fingers around his cock and strokes, once, twice, watches him fall apart and moan and forget English, feels him shudder and his hips beg her to let him come finally, fucking finally, he's been on edge for an hour and was half hard before she even got in the front door. 

When she doesn't make a move to fuck him again he looks at her, half underneath him on a stack of pillows, thighs damp, hair ruined, bite marks all over her breasts, and he realizes what she means- she wants him to make a mess of her, oh-god, and with that warm hand on his cock all he can do is moan so loud he's sure the neighbors will hear him beg, oh-fuck-please-îndeaproape-fuckkkk-yes, braces himself on the bedhead behind them with one hand and scratches his blunt nails across the back of her neck with the other and watch as his cock paints her, ribbons of pearly warmth across her breasts and down her stomach and smears down her wrist as he slides down onto her, stickiness and sweat and slick and fuck-knows-what-else between them as he breathes in through her hair. "Fuck."

She shifts, stretches her legs out, and he feels her laugh underneath him rather than hearing it, "You have a jealousy problem."

"It's not really a problem if it ends like this every time, is it?" He eases off her, sated, feeling boneless and lazy, laces his fingers with hers and pulls her off the bed in the direction of the shower.


End file.
